Innocence at 221B
by the homo club
Summary: Sherlock and John stumble across a stumping case, along with a stumping girl who seems to be a part of Sherlock himself. Parent!Lock and eventual Johnlock. Will continue every day, meaning updates every day. (Rated T because of gore, BoyXboy, and me being paranoid).
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock left the main crime scene, sighing. This case was going to be a good one, the thought, but it would be hard to solve even for him.

A man, Redd Hunner, was murdered within ten minutes. What makes it strange, though, is that all of his internal organs, eyes, and his blood had all been removed with almost professional accuracy, and sewn back up. They know that he was killed within ten minutes because his younger sister, only seven, had been home the whole time.

Sherlock removed his gloves as he entered the room where there sat the young girl in question. Her hair was slightly mussed, Sherlock noticed, and though she had just heard the murder of her own older brother, she looked not-at-all concerned or scared.

"Hello," Sherlock started, flashing a fake smile before sitting down before her. "I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes, I know," She said plainly, looking up at him through her thick brown curls. "They told me that you'd come to ask questions."

Sherlock forced another smile, as John had told him to, "treat a child like a child".

"Good. So, throughout your time being there, where were you?" Sherlock asked the girl, Jenna Rae.

"In the pantry," She answered simply, her eyes falling onto documents Sherlock had brought in with him since John had his hands full with the body. "It was an easy fit for someone my size."

"And what did you hear? See?" Sherlock asked as he silently figured out her life story.

"I heard footsteps, a gunshot, and my brother screaming. That's when I ran from my room, called 999, and hid." She said, still eyeing Sherlock's documents, looking like she was trying to figure something out herself. Her face was pale and smooth, giving the affect of porcelain. Her thick brown curls contrasted against her pale skin. Her eyes were a crisp blue that much resembled Sherlock's.

"Gunshot?" Sherlock pressed.

"Yes. Gunshot. You're a detective, no? You should know what a gunshot is," She giggled. She asked Sherlock for a piece of paper and a pen, which he had happened to have inside of his folder, which he gave her.

When he opened up the yellow-orange folder, he noticed how her eyes darted over the document, as his often did when he was stealing a glance at something that was under the rest of the worlds' notice.

After giving her the pen and paper, she wrote something down in curly, far from child-like writing:

_**'REMEMBER TO STORE: SHERLOCK HOLMES'**_

He was more then slightly confused by her note, but dismissed it and continued his questions.

"Why were you so surprised that I heard a gunshot?" She asked, doodling many things on her otherwise blank sheet.

"Because there were not bullet wounds on-.."

"The body. You need not be so vague, I'm aware that my brother has been killed." She said, her vocabulary stunning Sherlock.

"I see," Sherlock stated, standing up soon after. "I must be going, though I will be talking to you very soon, Ms. Rae." Sherlock gave her a half-fake, half-real smile and left the silent, empty room. He caught one more look at the sheet of paper which now read:

**_'REMEMBER TO STORE: SHERLOCK HOLMES - VERY SMART.'_**

He smirked at her thought to be unseen comment and left the room fully, his long coat following behind him.

"She's something special," Sherlock commented to himself as he closed the door behind him, ignoring the glare got from Anderson. He hated him; a positive idiot. He let his glare slip by him, not finding it to be anything important. He saw Sally Donovan standing beside Anderson, however, and again noticed the state of her knees.

"Ah, been cleaning floors again I see, Donovan?" He smirked, leaving their company (and a bad one, at that) to go find John before they could say much. Sherlock wanted to run on and on about the little girl he had met; she was brilliant. Sherlock noticed how she studied him, his document, and figured that she must have higher self-control if she didn't even cry when her brother had been killed almost ten feet in front of her.

* * *

Sally entered the room where Jenna sat, hoping to get something from her so far as information goes.

"Hello, I'm Sally Donovan, nice to see you," Sally said, sitting down in front of her in the bright room. The room happened to be a room across the backyard from the house. It had many large windows and plants lining the walls. Jenna scoffed and turned her attention to Sally for a moment before gazing back out through the window. "You introduce yourself as if my only remaining family member hadn't been brutally killed and stripped of his internal organs not ten hours ago." She said as if she was commenting on the weather, which happened to be what she was focused on outside of the window.

"Oh- Right, I'm terribly sorry for your loss-" Jenna again cut her off. "There was no such a thing."

"I'm sorry?" Sally asked, suddenly being reminded of the 'freak-ish' consulting detective.

"My loss. Losing my brother was not much of a loss- he was a drunk and abusive, I hardly cared much for his safety before, and it hasn't changed now." Jenna said, her voice so cold that it could freeze the whole of London. "But, it was a nice thought I suppose, and he was my only remaining family, so thank you, Ms. Donovan." Jenna spoke, sending Sally a sincere smile, as if she didn't know that saying that she wouldn't miss her brother wasn't normal.

"..Right. Anyways, I'm here to ask some questions-"

Jenna cut her off _again _with a loud groan, meant to sound tiered, but came out adorable due to her high, young voice. "_Three _other people already have done that. If I'm going to answer any more questions, you should start asking the right ones, like Mr. Holmes had." She said, a childish pout spreading across her pinkish lips.

"Why him? Oh, whatever. Child," Sally muttered the last part, which caused Jenna to raise an eye brow in what looked like offence. "Would you like some tea, then?" Jenna's pout reversed into a wide grin. "Yes, please! Cream and three sugars- every thing you need is in the kitchen." Jenna said, getting out of her seat and walking to the door. "It's okay if I look around, right? Don't worry, I'll stay out of the way. I just want to go to my swings." Jenna looked back to Sally, who was now standing.

"Of course, Dear." Sally said, pushing her out of the small brown room easily.

As Sally left Jenna's side, She muttered to herself, "Git." And walked to her swings as she had asked to.

Little did she know, Sherlock Holmes was watching her closely, admiring her knowledge as she quietly recited the periodic table to herself, pushing herself on the swing with one foot. He smirked- or rather, smiled - and walked out to where the shorter-then-average girl swung.

Sherlock took a seat beside her, making her reciting stop. Sherlock chuckled; it was so _strange _for such a high-pitched, soft, and child-like voice to be flawlessly reciting such a complicated thing (for most people, at least).

"Was that the periodic table you were reciting there, Ms. Rae?" Sherlock asked, though he obviously already knew the answer.

"Please- Jenna. And yes, I've memorized the periodic table and recite it when I lose interest in talking to idiots. Or rather, people who just don't _understand_ like I do," She said, honesty clear in her voice. She knew Sherlock was smart, and figured the next thing to pop in her head was the right thing to say to such a man as him.

"like _you _do." Sherlock looked over the girl, genuinely surprised by her well spoken, clear words.

"Like I do?" Sherlock questioned, the ghost of a smile dancing over his normally ice-cold face.

"Yes, like you do. I can tell that you're smarter then anyone else here. Smarter then _me. _You have a mind-vault too, don't you?" She asked, looking up to Sherlock, hoping that her observations were right.

Her worries were melted away the husky, gravely laugh of Sherlock Holmes. "Not quite- Mine's a Palace." He said, showing off maybe just a tad. He was so entranced with this little, frail, seven year-old girl. Her eyes sparkled happily, and Sherlock felt something unfamiliar inside of his chest.

It felt like something was melting, but in a shockingly warming and pleasant way. _Sentiment,_ Sherlock growled in his mind.

"Really? That's awesome! You're just like me!" She cheered, gaining the attention of Anderson and a few others.

"Yes, in a way. And, though this may put a slight damper on your mood, you said that your brother was your only remaining family member?" Sherlock asked, choosing his words carefully.

"Yes, that's just so!" She still cheered, making Sherlock want to laugh.

"You can't cheer, it's a crime scene." He said, chuckling at the memories of that phrase.

Jenna only giggled more, her curly locks bouncing. "Whoops! Anyways, what's the point in knowing that?"

She was surprised by a man with grey hair. Lestrade. "Well, that means that you'll have to go into a foster home, I'm afraid."

Sherlock suddenly felt a tinge of guilt; He didn't want to put such a brilliant and bright girl in the care of some random stranger. Jenna's face darkened as well. "Oh,"

Before she could get any more disappointed, Sherlock stood from his place at the swings, and spoke, "Don't worry, Lestrade, she may live with John and I till she finds a home better suited to her." Sherlock said before his brain could process what he was offering, though he didn't regret his words.

"Really?" Jenna said from behind him, absolutely beaming. "Really."

Lestrade sent him a questioning look, but simply agreed and left the area. Jenna jumped from the swings and hugged Sherlock's legs, as she was only tall enough to hug that portion of the lanky detective.

"Oh, thank you thank you thank you!"


	2. Chapter 2

John sighed as the brown-haired seven year old sat between him and Sherlock, kicking her feet as they did not touch the ground. He could believe he had agreed to this; life at 221B Baker street was dangerous. _Very _dangerous and Sherlock knew that. John and Sherlock's flat was _no place _for a child, much less a little girl!

But, Sherlock had convinced him. "She's a proper genius, John, she just needs a bit of a shove in the right direction! Besides, you understand sentiment better then I do; you know that she can't be taken to somewhere with people that don't understand her after having been _abused _and raised by a drunk. Think, John; living with us could set her on the right track!" Sherlock had told him with so much enthusiasm that pushed John to agree.

So now, they started back in the quiet ride to 221B, Jenna kicking her feet and holding her backpack firmly to her chest. She hummed a tune happily, and Sherlock recognized it easily; Bach Cello Suite No.1 in G. He pondered on how a girl so young could have so much potential, but then he remembered his younger years.

He had been bullied an awful lot; being called names that he still hears thrown at him everyday: Freak, alien, monster, know-it-all, etc., but anger stirred up inside of his stomach when he wondered if Jenna had been bullied in the same way. He had no idea why he felt so many uncalled for emotions for this girl, but he out right couldn't help it. She was sweet, innocent (to an extent), and most of all: the only child Sherlock could ever bear to be around.

Most children were so _loud, _so _stupid,_ so _self-centered, _but Jenna was nothing of the sort. She was quiet, smart, and considerate. That was all Sherlock really saw in people; besides their life stories, which he had already gotten from Jenna.

Her mother and father died in a skiing accident on a family vacation when she was five, and her older brother (who was twenty at the time) had to take care of her. Since it was Jenna's idea to go skiing, Redd blamed Jenna for their parents deaths, and when they moved in, started to beat her for it. That itself made Sherlock want to punch him in the face, and he would have, if he wasn't dead. To add onto his physical abuse to Jenna, He was also a drunk and often verbally abused her when he was sober.

Sherlock was lost in thought when the cab pulled up to 221B, and he only roused from his Mind Palace when Jenna tugged on his long coat as she stepped out of the cab. "Come oooonnn, Sherlock," She complained, sounding truly like a child when she spoke. "I want to see your flat!" Sherlock chuckled (that day was probably the most he'd done that, he noted) and stepped out of the cab, eyeing Jenna as she walked up the stairs behind John.

Jenna changed out of her previous clothes and into something more suiting for the warmer weather. She wore plain navy-blue leggings, a green T-shirt with a cartoon-style owl on the front, and brightly colored, plaid flats. She wore a simple purple hair clip to keep an unforgiving strand of hair that constantly would dangle in front of her bright eyes.

Once they reached 221B, Jenna was exited to see the homey clutter of it all. She wasn't at all surprised to see the skull sitting on the mantle; such a strange man was bound to have strange things, she thought.

Sherlock had made it clear that she was not allowed in the fridge, and had to ask before she touched any of Sherlock's experiments. Jenna nodded with understanding, a childish-sounding "Hmpfh" coming from her as she nodded. It was John's turn to chuckle then.

"Thanks again, for letting me stay here, I mean. I most likely would have faked my disappearance to go back to my old house if I was stuck in a boring, suburban, mundane household," She said, giving her backpack to Sherlock to put on the table that was much too tall for her.

"And why would you do that?" John asked, sounding serious but the smile on his face said otherwise.

"They wouldn't let me go out on my own, of course." said Jenna. She traced delicate fingers over the spine of books, reading their title and mentally marking the interesting one's location. "Most people aren't as care-free as my brother was." Her voice held not a single drop of remorse or pain.

"Well, that's going to be different. You aren't allowed to leave the flat without either John or myself with you, it's far too dangerous," Sherlock stated simply, ignoring Jenna's huff. "Fine."

* * *

After many hours of talking with Sherlock and John (mostly about cases and experiments), Jenna grew slightly tiered. She didn't want to show it; she was having such a nice time with her new friends. Sherlock was quiet and slightly dark, but Jenna found his slightly gloomy personality made her more curious about him.

John, on the other hand, had little to no trouble showing his emotions and opinions (though, Sherlock was always spouting off his view on things), and was openly caring.

This made John easier to read then Sherlock by a landslide. The small girl that looked like a porcelain doll made the mistake of yawning. While Sherlock and John talked about someone she didn't know about (someone named Mycroft was all she got from the conversation), She turned up on the soft, squishy couch and accidentally fell into a light sleep.

She could still _hear _Sherlock and John talking, but she wasn't sure if it were a dream or real life. She tried to wake up, but ended up just whimpering softly and stirring in her sleep. She instead tried to get farther into sleep, but she just wan't comfortable enough.

After what seemed like an hour but was really only a minute, Sherlock's slightly bony and lanky (but still strong) arms pushed under her, and she felt a sudden warmth against her chest. She realized that Sherlock must have been carrying her somewhere to sleep. She actually didn't know _where _she was being taken, and after a bit of thinking, she really didn't know _who _Sherlock Holmes was.

All she knew is that the police (A D.I, no less) had trusted them with her with very little argument. Her thoughts were put to rest as Sherlock's warm chest was pulled away from her, and she felt a bed underneath her. It was very cold compared to the warmth of Sherlock's firm chest, but it was soft and welcoming none the less. She was surprised to smell Sherlock's, for the lack of a better word, musky sent even after she heard his footsteps leave the room and the door creak shut.

Before she could question it, she was already fast asleep, curled up in unfamiliar covers.

That night, she had dreams of when her brother was still pleasant to be around, though she knew that the bad outweighed the good.

Even in her sleep, she still could still think openly, and even wonder around in her Mind Vault with more detail. In different folders there were different names, different information, different memories...

Then she made one for Sherlock Holmes and John Watson; the two most interesting and brilliant people she'd ever met.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sherlock sat across from John. "This was a stupid idea," John said, laughing quietly. "Oh, was it, John?" Sherlock said, smirking as he leaned closer to him, looking slightly devious. "Yes, it was. Letting a seven year old girl into our dangerous," John kissed Sherlock quickly on the lips, "Insane," He kissed Sherlock again, smiling softly, "Cluttered flat. What ever were you thinking?" John asked, though he got no answer in return.

Instead, Sherlock kissed John deeply, his tongue sliding with ease over John's. John kissed back slowly, bringing his hands to run through Sherlock's curly, dark brown hair. "Don't pout. We'll still get enough time alone." Sherlock whispered into the kiss, only ending in John kissing him slightly deeper, hands running down Sherlock's back. "Good."

* * *

**A/N: AND THEN THEY FRICKED.**

**no no, are you crazy? with Jenna in the flat like that? of course they didnt**

**they just kissed oh no the mystery is out**

**and this has been a very informative authors note brought to you by readers like YOU**

**im really proud if you got that PBS pun**

**okay bye ill show myself out,**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: eW THE NEW LAYOUT IS GROSS**

* * *

Jenna woke up slowly, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Her small head rested on a large, white pillow, and she could still smell Sherlock on the sheets and came to the conclusion that he must have put her in his bed. However, the lanky detective was no where to be seen, so he most likely took the couch. She sat up slowly, taking in her surroundings.

The room was average, though it had many different jars full of experiments and test tubes bubbling silently. She noticed all of Sherlock's very professional-looking writing on the table beside her, and read it over. It turned out to be nothing really important on interesting, just some notes she couldn't bring much sense to.

She put the papers back in their place and stood, walking to a desk where she saw her backpack. She climbed up onto the rather tall chair with some difficulty and stood, looking through her various clothes. She settled with something comfortable and simple, and found that it was almost the same thing from before.

Though now she wore a simple blue and black T-shirt and jeans that stopped just above her knee. Happy with her clothing for the day, Jenna walked to what she assumed was Sherlock's bathroom.

She was, in fact, correct. The room was littered with more test tubes, experiments, and (not to her surprise) jars with human eyeballs. She simply ignored them and continued on, finding something for her to stand on so she could see as she brushed her teeth. Once she had finished, she fixed her hair slightly and pinned down that pesky disobeying hair of hers.

Deeming herself ready, she left the bathroom and Sherlock's room, surprised to see Sherlock already awake, though it was only the early hours of the morning. "Good morning, Sherlock." Jenna said, walking to him and sitting beside him. It took him a moment to snap out of his thoughts. He had spent almost the whole night thinking about the case, Jenna, and John.

"Ah, yes. Good morning Jenna," Sherlock said, turning his head to look at her. She gave him a happy smile, her eyes again sparkling with happiness as she did. "Are you hungry?" He added, assuming that she would be.

His guess was correct; Jenna was quite hungry. After the ordeal of the day prior, staying up late reading and talking, she was positively _starving_ though her sleepiness had been more important at the time. "Yes, I am!" She told him, cheering though keeping her voice down. It was only 5:34, after all.

"Well, then," Sherlock stood and walked to the kitchen. "Some breakfast then?" Jenna nodded happily, making Sherlock smirk to himself. He prepared two pieces of toast and jam quickly, setting it on the table and watching Jenna struggle to get all of her shortish limbs onto the unusually tall chairs. They were at least a foot taller then normal chairs; Sherlock found them easier to sit in, with his lanky-long legs.

After about 30 seconds of struggle, Jenna managed to get to the top of the chair. Sitting on her knees, she ate the toast gratefully, thanking Sherlock. After finishing one of her pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice, she looked over to the consulting detective curiously. "Aren't _you _going to eat?" She asked, getting down from the chair.

"No, digesting slows me down. I don't eat on cases."

She frowned up at him. "Don't be stupid." She stood up and handed Sherlock the remaining piece of toast on her plate. "Eat. It doesn't slow you down; no wonder you're so skinny." Sherlock looked at the toast in her hands. She sighed and jiggled the toast slightly, outstretching her arm more. "Don't be a child, eat your breakfast." Sherlock chuckled at the words coming from a child and took the toast, deciding to humor her and his stomach. "Fine. Whatever you say, mummy." Sherlock mocked.

Jenna giggled at Sherlock's words, finding him calling her 'mummy' was quite amusing. As Sherlock started to eat his toast, a door creaked open and John appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling over at the two. "And _how _did you manage to get him to eat? How nicely did you ask?" John asked sarcastically, though he was seriously stumped with the small girl.

"Well, I didn't ask. I _demanded._"

* * *

**A/N: this is short but im late for scHOOL**

**I'll update when I get home okay**


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